Take A Number
by underling909
Summary: McKinley Glee Club go after justice for that slushie, but it turns out that they're not the only ones who want a piece of Sebastian. Best not dig too deep - but when has that ever stopped any of this lot before?
1. Chapter 1

On Monday Kurt brought the news to the rest of New Directions that Blaine was scheduled for surgery that morning. Santana recounted her visit to Dalton on Friday, grinding her teeth as she had to admit to being the latest of Sebastian's slushie victims following their duel.

"Where is he getting them from – they don't even have a slushie machine at Dalton!" moaned Kurt. "I heard that his dad is paying for Blaine's surgery though so at least that's something…"

"No it bloody isn't!" snarled Santana. "That's the little creep getting his rich daddy to buy his way out of trouble! He should have been arrested for what he did to Blaine – instead he's still out there without a fucking care in the world!"

"Hell yeah!" It was Mercedes who spoke, but all of the New Directions were getting riled up now. "We should have called the damn cops on his sorry ass ourselves – cos no-one else has and now his dad's probably covered everything over. It's just not fair – if it had been any of us can you imagine what our parents _and_ Figgins would have done?"

Puck stood up. "Dalton finishes after us. I'm gonna skip out tomorrow afternoon and head over there. Teach that skinny, entitled little shit a lesson he won't be able to buy his way out of. No-one does this to one of ours and gets off scot free!"

Sam instantly stood up as well. "I'm with you, bro. What about you?" looking at Finn. "It was Kurt the little creep was trying to go for…"

Finn was less enthusiastic but he responded to the others' high-five. "Yeah, I'll come. Looks like the only justice Kurt and Blaine are likely to get. But no full-on vigilante stuff – if only because we'll get in big trouble at Dalton if we go too far..."

"Don't worry, we'll go easy on his scrawny little ass, right Sam? I doubt it'll take much to send him off crying – bullies like him are always fucking cowards," smirked Puck.

Santana flashed back to their duel, and the…. hostility?… _power_ which had radiated from Sebastian. "I'm coming. You guys are gonna need to be careful. No offence to Blaine or you, Kurt, but he's not like you guys. He's hard as nails. I wouldn't be surprised if he had a knife on him."

In the end they took two cars to Dalton. Santana, joined by Quinn and Mercedes, was perturbed to see _Karofsky_ of all people tagging along with Puck, Finn and Sam. Kurt, fairly predictably, had bailed, with the very valid excuse of visiting Blaine (who was recovering well from his surgery) but had demanded updates, ideally with video evidence, as soon as the deed was done. Rachel loudly refused to be a part of such vigilantism, _while making no attempt to stop it_ , noted Santana wryly, and Britney, and other gentler souls, had followed her lead with relief.

They strolled into Dalton unopposed – despite its air of opulence and privilege it somehow seemed a considerably more laid-back establishment than McKinley. Quinn, declaring herself the person most likely to be responded to in a positive way, took the lead when they recognised some Warblers and asked them if they knew where Sebastian was.

The pushy one, _Hunter_ , Santana remembered, shrugged like it was nothing to do with him. "He only came back today. Missed most of his classes. Or all..." He looked around at his fellow Warblers, most of whom shrugged, or looked blank. "He's out of the Warblers now anyway. I'm not gonna tolerate that kinda behaviour."

"I hope your friend's ok?" It was the chubby, younger boy, _Trent,_ supplied Santana's brain who had spoken up.

"He will be, no thanks to _your_ friend," snapped Quinn, but she nodded to him in acknowledgement of his courtesy.

"He's no friend of ours," put in Hunter. "Like I said – zero tolerance for crap like that."

Santana was losing patience. "Do you know where he is or not?"

Hunter raised his eyebrows and looked her up and down. "Depends what you want him for. If you ladies are looking for a good time, stick with us. Sebastian's a little slut, but he'd probably be happier servicing your jock buddies here. If on the other hand they're looking to beat the crap out of him, my guess is that he's out by the playing fields having a smoke – no doubt eyeing up the other lacrosse guys, seeing as he's probably ducked practice again."

" _Hunt_!" gasped Trent. The older boy shrugged. "What? What the hell do I care? He bloody deserves it, bringing the Warblers name into disrepute – they'll be saving us a job. And if his fucking dad comes roaring in here, don't worry, McKinleys, we never saw you, did we guys?" The rest of the Warblers nodded, some, like Trent, more reluctantly than others.

McKinley turned on their heels in the direction Hunter indicated, although Santana thought she heard " _go easy on him_ " follow her in Trent's voice as they left. _Well they were only too happy to throw him to the wolves_ she mused, as they headed out to Dalton's endless, pastoral, playing fields.

It was Sam's sharp eyes which finally spotted the solitary figure of what turned out to be Sebastian reclining gracefully against a tree at the far end of one of the meadows which bordered the playing fields before transforming into the full woodlands beyond. Smoking what Puck and Santana immediately mutually identified as a joint, he barely moved as the group approached, merely turning his head lazily in their direction, slowly blinking (slightly bloodshot) eyes against the sunshine as he blew out an elegant plume of smoke.

"A deputation!" he drawled. "To what do I owe the honour?" His voice was slightly hoarse.

Puck, now on more comfortable ground, took control and hauled Sebastian to his feet. "Listen you fucking little shit, you nearly blinded Blaine and we're gonna give you what you've got coming."

"Yeah, _meerkat._ " added Santana. "and Daddy _dearest_ won't get you out of this one!"

Sebastian seemed to find this hilarious. "What I've got coming!" He laughed, then shook his head. "And it's gonna take…" he squinted against the sun – "… _four_ of you gorillas to give it to me! Unless the _ladies_ (and I use that term loosely…) are joining in as well?"

He shoved Puck away from him. "Look, _gang_ , I'm sorry your little hobbit friend got hurt – the stuff wasn't even meant to hit _Gay Face_ in his…. gay face… it was only supposed to wreck his precious princess clothes, like I told Satan here last week..." handing his spliff with a flourish to Santana.

Puck had had enough and shoved him back, hard against the tree. Sebastian swiftly put his hands up, placating "-but I can see you gentlemen _will_ have satisfaction-" and suddenly the mocking tone in his voice was gone "- so COME AT ME, BOYS – FUCKING _DO IT!"_ he finished with a howl of rage and flying fists and suddenly Puck was on the ground, and the rest of the McKinley boys were upon the Dalton boy as Puck scrambled to his feet to launch himself after them…

… But Santana heard an agonised wail – the kind which she should not have heard, not yet anyway, and saw a flash of red, black and blue from the ground as Sebastian's shirt was pulled free and " _STOP!_ " she screamed, looking back desperately at her girls for support while launching straight into the melee grabbing at the nearest shirt to pull its owner off – "He's _hurt –_ he's already fucking hurt – can't you see?!" And Mercedes was _hauling_ Sam to one side and shrieking too – "You heard her! Get _off_ him!" And Quinn was there too, but it took Finn's help to finally pull Karofsky off, and they gazed in horror at the slight boy huddled on the ground, shirt half over his head along with his arms , every exposed bit of his skinny torso covered in huge, dark bruises, scrapes, cuts.. " _were those fucking marks from a belt?"_ because Santana had seen those before and… Sebastian had somehow scrambled to his feet, hastily yanking his shirt back down to cover himself, picking up the forgotten blazer he had been sitting on and backing away from them, eyes feral.

"Sorry about that," he spat out. "Should have mentioned, daddy _dearest_ got there first – but… it's ok. I heal quick. Take a number, come back next week and I'll be happy to oblige you good people then." And, moving way faster than he should have been able to in the state he was in, he was gone, running from them across the field.


	2. Chapter 2

_Welcome to the surprise second chapter of this supposed one-shot! I do actually have the whole backstory for this thing in my head and am quite enjoying writing it down so far. No promises long term but there will definitely be more. Pairing (if I get that far) will be... unconventional - you'll have to wait and see. Oh, and while this is not exactly AU, canon is not my strong point so I apologise in advance for things which may jar. And I warn you now - Blaine is... Well, have you guys seen "The Assassination of Gianni Versace" yet? Tour de force by Darren Criss! So the Blaine in this story could well grow up into THAT. This chapter gives a little insight into where this might be going, but not much... yet! Keep reviewing - I'm busy writing more!  
_

"His dad did it!" Mercedes announced, somewhat salaciously, to the assembled New Directions the next day. They had all gone their separate ways, somewhat stunned, after they had left Dalton and had now gathered to report back to Kurt and the rest.

Kurt squinted at the blurry photo of a battered Sebastian lying on the ground surrounded by McKinley's finest – it was poor, but the best that Finn had been able to manage before their prey had bolted. "Or did he?" he muttered, suspiciously. "I mean this looks… really bad and his dad is States Attorney or something – would a guy like that really do this to his own kid? Imagine if word got out… surely his career would be over…. My guess? Sebastian's only saying that for attention – to make us pity him cos he knows how angry we are. Someone at Scandals probably got to him – I've heard he's always throwing himself around there like the boywhore that he is…."

"Or even someone at Dalton.." put in Quinn. "Most of them seem to really hate him now too. Maybe that Hunter guy was lying – was so pissed off about the Meerkat ruining the Warblers' reputation that he got to him before we did… He seems plenty aggressive enough to have done it."

"Not on his own." said Santana flatly. "Did you guys not _see_ the state of little Fievel? That's someone a _lot_ bigger and stronger… or a few people…" _Or someone he held still for…._ "I'm pretty sure he was beaten with a belt…."

Finn bit his lip. "Well look guys…. are we all agreed that we leave him alone now? You can show the picture to Blaine – I mean, one way or another, Sebastian got his – it doesn't matter who gave it to him but… I think he's been hurt enough. I just want to finish this now. And we should let Sebastian know that no one else is gonna come after him."

"He's right." Mercedes looked around at the rest of the group, most of whom were also nodding in agreement. "However it happened, that nasty kid's been through a pretty savage beating – and we're not the kind of people to hit someone when he's down like that, right? Blaine wouldn't want us to."

But, back home from hospital, what Blaine said was "Was it really that bad? It's kind of hard to see from this picture…. Especially with one eye," he added, plaintively.

"Well I kind of wondered too… I still don't think it was his dad – _no one_ does. The list of people who would want to crush Sebastian is a probably mile long… but I guess it was bad enough, whoever did it. Even _Santana_ was shocked," insisted Kurt. "I mean, you'd have to be practically _dead_ before she-"

"-Ok, ok. I guess that's that." Blaine sighed, and put the phone down. "He's off the hook, one way or another. I just can't believe he said it was his dad! My dad knows him – Colin Smythe, I mean, not very well but… He actually came to the hospital, you know, while I was out of it.. Dad said he wouldn't take no for an answer – insisted on taking over all my bills. Mind you," he grinned suddenly, "Dad said he thought Sebastian's dad was pretty pissed at him. Apparently said he'd already been punished, but that wasn't the end of it."

"God!" said Kurt. "You don't think-"

"No way!" snapped Blaine. "He probably stopped his $500 a week allowance or took back his car or something. That's all my dad would have done, apart from bending my ear about how disappointed he was with all of my 'life choices…'"

"Your dad's not exactly kind to you and you're the sweetest person we know!" Rachel had accompanied Kurt to see his boyfriend. "Whereas that meerkat… "

"Is an utter shit." finished Kurt succinctly. He sighed. "I guess we'll never know what really happened… especially as we can't believe a word coming out of his mouth…. But even we couldn't wish something like that on him, right Blaine? Funnily enough, Santana's volunteered to go tell him the hit's off. I think she senses a kindred evil spirit…. I said I'd just text him but… "

"Let's just be glad it's all over. You're already feeling better and that hideous little Sebastian Smythe won't be messing with anyone for a while. And they've thrown him out of the Warblers too – bonus win for New Directions!" Rachel gave a happy little kiss to Blaine's forehead before heading out to her dance class.

After a frustratingly careful cuddle (Kurt infuriatingly refusing to even go to second base – still worried about Blaine's eye) his boyfriend had also left – leaving Blaine on his own to acknowledge that the burning in his injured eye was still extremely uncomfortable. _Fucking Sebastian Smythe had done this to him, and somehow now even Santana was sorry for him!_

His feelings for Sebastian had always been very mixed. He'd felt a helpless attraction to the taller boy from the moment he'd started to flirt with him and, despite his outward protestations, had sent more than a couple of heated glances his way, when he knew no one else was looking. But the one time he was sure that the Dalton boy saw him, Blaine had been confused by his response. The younger boy's green eyes had widened briefly, almost surprised, then raked across Blaine haughtily before that familiar smirk had appeared, and Sebastian had waggled his eyebrows at him before walking away.

Since then, Blaine's secret obsession had only grown. Sebastian was everything he… _aspired_ to in a boyfriend. He was in a different class to Kurt in every way. His family was even richer than Blaine's own, he was so… _exotic_ and exciting with his talk of life in France and his wild nights at Scandals… He was gifted, seemingly in every way – apparently excelling in school work without ever actually seeming to do any – then there was the Warblers of course where his dancing alone… Blaine had also clandestinely watched a couple of lacrosse games, mesmerised as the lean, long-limbed midfielder, easily identifiable from his teammates despite the helmet and safety gear, managed to make the sport look both graceful and easy as he tore down the field, snatching the ball mid-air from hapless opponents, rarely bothering to pass to his attackers, and more often than not scoring, elegantly, beautifully, on his own.

That was the fucking problem right there – Sebastian was just so damn _beautiful_. And, as much his boyfriend was a true connoisseur of fashion, Blaine knew that he himself was a connoisseur of beauty. Always had been. He was well aware that he was pretty fucking gorgeous himself, but inevitably (to his own eyes) he had faults. Too dark (and too damn hairy). _Way_ too… goddamn _short._ That stupid curly hair of his (although he knew Kurt loved it)...He'd always ferociously envied his brother Cooper, who was all their tall, patrician WASP father rather than the petite Filipino mother (beautiful though she was) that Blaine completely took after. And Kurt… Kurt was _nearly_ beautiful. That skin, those perfect features, those big blue eyes.. Hell – Kurt _was_ beautiful… in clothes. Out of them – his body was not quite there yet – if it ever would be, mused Blaine. A little soft around the edges, a little childlike. And he was just too… _feminine_ – although maybe that was Blaine just being subjective – maybe someone else would love that aspect of Kurt more than he…. But Sebastian, dear god, Sebastian was head to toe perfection. Thick, dark, _straight,_ hair, cheekbones like knives, slender but strong body, limbs that went on for miles, abs that sculptors would fight over... And his _face_ \- those incredible, expressive, green eyes, fringed by lashes you could sweep floors with, those delicate, yet masculine features, that fucking _mouth_ …

And bloody, bloody Sebastian swanned around, towering over him with all that beauty, and stared straight into his soul – _knowing_ that Blaine was thinking lustful thoughts about him despite his protestations of faithfulness to Kurt – and fucking _laughing_ at him. It was all a game to Sebastian – all a fucking game. And now he had all but blinded him. And basically gotten away with it.


	3. Chapter 3

_A shorter one this time - but the next is already under way. Brittany works her magic._

EARLIER THAT WEDNESDAY

Santana was explaining to Brittany why she couldn't make the Lima Bean that afternoon. "I've gotta go see the Meerkat – tell him he's safe from us… this time…."

Brittany was confused. "Can't you just phone him?"

Brittany was the only person Santana allowed to see her softer side. "I don't got his number, sweetie. Anyhow I kind of wanna check up on him. I know he's an evil little rodent but… he looked so bad…."

"But he's evil!" exclaimed Brittany. "You can't go on your own… "

"Hey come on Britts, I'm pretty evil too right?" Although Santana was grinning she briefly gazed away into the middle distance. "And I've got my reasons, same as Fievel probably has his….I can handle him, don't you worry." She refocused, and smiled at her girlfriend.

Brittany was not convinced. "You should take Lord Tubbington," she suggested. "He's good at protecting people from rodents…"

Santana finally agreed to let Brittany accompany her to Dalton. Halfway there she answered her phone to her furious mother – Santana had totally forgotten her promise to babysit her nephew so her mother and aunt could go to an appointment. Brittany turned the car around and dropped her off. Santana left her with a hug and a frustrated - "I'll just make Kurt text him, god knows when I'm gonna get time to go there now… Probably just be a waste of time anyway – the little weasel hates me…"

Brittany, now at an unexpected loose end, considered what she might do next.

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The unseasonal late September sunshine had drawn Sebastian back to the far perimeters of Dalton's green fields for the second day in a row. He was occupying the same space, and engaging in the same activity, as when he had been found by McKinley's finest only 24 hours previously. He had attended a couple of his classes but slipped away early, despondent at the continuing hostility emanating from the majority of his classmates, word having rapidly spread (largely courtesy of Hunter) of his disgraceful behaviour the previous week. The combination of sun, the heady smoke of another joint, and the fiery trails of his favourite Courvoisier, taken neat in regular nips from a hip flask, was doing a pretty good job of numbing all kinds of pain…

A shadow fell across his closed eyelids and he sat up hastily, shading his eyes, scrabbling backwards and lurching awkwardly to his feet.

"Hey don't run away, scared Fievel-mouse – I need to check up on you!" announced the stunning, willowy blonde before him, accompanying her declaration with a shy, nervous little smile.

Sebastian calmed his breathing. "You're their dancer, right? You and that Asian guy? You're incredible." While speaking he was carefully scanning the area around and beyond her; she appeared to be alone, so he somewhat shyly returned her smile and slid gratefully down onto the grass again – patting the area beside him in invitation.

Brittany sank down next to him and turned to him, beaming. "I've seen you dance too. The rest of those Warblers are pretty good I guess, but you're a real dancer, like me. And you're totally hot, like me. I don't think you're evil at all. Like 'Tana. She says she's evil, but she's really not."

Sebastian recovered the dropped spliff and relit it with relief. He regarded the blonde girl in perplexity, feeling somewhat at sea, but again, couldn't help but smile again at her friendly, open, and beautiful face. He was experiencing his first undiluted dose of Brittany.

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"So yeah, he was totally smoking drugs and drinking so I just joined in, I guess, but it was good because he has a proper smile, you know? Not like that mean little smile he always does…"

Santana gaped at her screen. It was their nightly skype session, and Brittany (cuddling Lord Tubbington as usual) was filling in her girlfriend on the day's adventures. "He says he doesn't hate you, Tana! I told him you wanted to check up on him so I was instead, and I made him pull up his shirt! Well… I kinda had to pin him down then pulled it up for him... He got a bit upset about that but we worked it out."

"How… how did you work it out?" As she often did, Brittany was managing to leave her girlfriend virtually speechless.

Brittany put Lord Tubbington down and gave her full attention to the screen. "He's sad, Tana. And when I found him he was scared, and when I was messing about with him he was scared too. Even though he said he was ok... And he said that it was nice of you to worry about him but that you shouldn't. He's really not mean at all, Tana, or a bad person I don't think. I think he must be scared a lot of the time, and sore, too. I…" she bit her lip and brought her face close to the camera, to look straight into her girlfriend's eyes. "I kissed him, Sweetie." Her gaze dropped. "After I'd pulled his shirt up, and he was kinda angry and scared at the same time, and looking at me with those eyes… I just wanted to kiss him all better.. so I kissed all those pretty bruises on his stomach and one of the marks he had-" She lifted her eyes only to see that Santana's were shining with unshed tears.

"Britts… I love you so much!" Santana reached out to touch the screen. "Only you, Brit-Brit, only you could do what you did today. Was he ok after that… ok with you kissing him I mean?"

"Oh sure.. we kinda made out in the end?"

Santana could only grin at her girlfriend. "Turning him straight, huh, Britts?" She knew what Brittany was like with the boys but was utterly secure that she loved only her. But Sebastian... What Brittany was unknowingly describing was someone who had been hurt more than once...

"Oh he definitely likes girls." Brittany continued airily. "He's so, so hot…. We nearly went all the way. But I was kind of saying about how I bet you'd wish you were there too so .. he made us stop in the end, cos' I think he sort of figured out you and me are together? I said you wouldn't mind and he was kind of laughing but really sweet actually and saying maybe I'd better check first… but.. he put his number in my phone and told me to give it to you too, and said it was for emergencies only or to warn him if he was in trouble with anyone from McKinley again, but that he was fine now and he was feeling better and to thank the glee club for not coming after him any more."

 _Doesn't sound very fine... not really..._ mused Santana.

Brittany was kissy-facing her, and Santana smirked as she saw _Fievel_ appear from her girlfriend's phone.

"I guess that's his real name," chattered on Brittany, seeing her girlfriend's expression. "He put it in my phone. D'you think it's French, cos' that's where he comes from and all?"

" _Monsieur Fievel_ " giggled Santana. "Almost definitely, Britts, almost definitely."

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 _Next time we're gonna get a glimpse of Sebastian's back story. And what are Blaine and Karofsky up to?_


	4. Chapter 4

_A little bit of Sebastian's backstory. I know exactly where I want this story to go but I'm very much now writing it as I go along (it was originally meant to be a one-shot!). So who knows when the next upload will be? But I'll do my best - plenty of inspiration at the moment!  
_

True to Brittany's promise, Sebastian heard nothing further from the denizens of McKinley, and with no Warblers to occupy him he threw himself into lacrosse now that his bruises were healing. He also joined the track team. Running proved as effective a distraction from his thoughts as dope and Courvoisier and he found himself going on increasingly long solo runs, plugged into his music, revelling in pushing his body to its limits. He had even started paying attention in class again and his grades had already recovered from the unexpected dip they had taken following the Slushie affair. And then he was summoned home for another weekend. As always, the Smythe driver, Nelson, cordially loathed by Sebastian, had been sent, and there was nothing the boy could do. If he refused to go, or ran away, he was terrified that Gracie would suffer, for this is what his father had promised him.

It was Gracie who came running from the house to meet him, beadily watched from the doorway by her mother, Amy, as the boy scooped Grace into a hug. Where her little seven-year-old was short and stocky, Bas was tall and lanky. His dark hair and almond-shaped eyes were contrasted by her bouncing blonde curls and round, bright blue, eyes. They couldn't have looked less like siblings, but this was her daughter's big brother, or at least her half brother, Amy supposed, not that he looked anything like Colin either. No, Bas was all his French bitch of a mother – thick dark hair, aristocratic features, catlike eyes….

But Grace loved him, and he appeared to love her, which came in very useful on more than one occasion. This weekend, with Colin away on one of his endless business trips Amy had been gratified to receive a last-minute invitation from a girlfriend to a prestigious fashion show held in New York, of all places. While Amy, no fool, knew fine well that someone else had obviously cancelled on her friend, she had accepted the invitation with alacrity. It was she who had ordered Nelson to fetch Bas; while she had no particular love for her stepson she was aware that he had somehow become the apple of Grace's eye. She wouldn't have to worry about Grace while she was away, so long as Bas was there.

Sebastian was walking towards the house, struggling a little with his bag as Grace clung to him like a baby monkey. Amy frowned at him as he approached. "Put her down, Bas. I need to talk to you for a minute."

"But Mo-o-o-om!" shrieked Grace, half in Sebastian's ear, causing an involuntary wince. "I hardly saw him at all last time – I miss him!"

"Please Grace." sighed Amy. "You'll get plenty of time with him soon." She smiled coldly at Sebastian. "Nice to see you, Bas. Your father is away this weekend, and I've been unexpectedly invited to New York. The servants will be here of course, but _you_ are here for Grace, understand? I'm trusting you to take care of her as that is what she appears to want – do _not_ let me down or your father will hear of it."

Sebastian's shoulders had sagged in relief at the news that his father was absent. Now he waggled his eyebrows at Gracie and was still grinning when he looked over at his stepmother. "Ok, _Mom_ , I'll do my best. We'll have a blast, right, Gracie?"

"Damn straight!" yelled Grace and Amy frowned at her stepson. "I swear to god, Bas, if her behaviour deteriorates after spending time with you…"

Sebastian shrugged. "It depends on what you classify as a _deterioration_ , mommy dearest. I just believe she should be allowed to express herself." Sebastian was not happy about addressing Amy as 'mom' (and Amy herself wasn't particularly bothered either), but had been ordered to by his father and if there was one thing Amy was good at, it was taking tales back to Colin Smythe.

"Goddammit, Bas-!" Sebastian smirked. Amy tended to lose her class when she was riled and he always did his best to facilitate the process – within safe parameters of course. Mission accomplished, he held his hands up. "Sorry Amy – Mom. Of course I'll take care of her. I'll make sure she gets enough sleep and eats right and everything." His smile took in both of them. Even though he knew Amy felt nothing more than a combination of indifference and contempt for _him_ , he knew how much she loved her daughter, and as he loved Gracie too he felt they had that in common at least.

Amy softened a little. "Thank you, Bas. There's money so you guys can get pizza if you want tomorrow night."

"Finally! Pizza!" exclaimed Grace with a dramatic wave of her hands. She hugged Amy. "Thanks, mommy! We'll be good I promise!"

"I know you will, sweet pea." Amy returned her little girl's hug. "I'll miss you when I'm gone."

Gracie kissed her, but sighed a little inside herself. Mommy loved to baby her, and she did her best to oblige, but she _was_ seven years old. And she noticed things. She put on her baby voice again. "And Bassy too – you'll miss Bassy, too, right, Mommy?"

Amy was feeling generous. "And Bassy too." she said with a smile, even though she only looked at Grace.

Sebastian caught the mood. He had to strike while the iron was hot. "Uh… mom… just before you go.. can I quickly talk to you about something?"

Gracie looked mildly surprised. Amy looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Not right now Bas, I've really got to get going…"

Gracie watched as, with a last kiss to her head, her mother rapidly tapped out of the room.

Bassy gave her a a quick grin. "Give me a minute – be right back!" he whispered, but Gracie quietly followed as he went after her Mom.

"Amy- Mom – please." Bassy's voice was almost too quiet to hear. He had followed Amy upstairs and was talking to her in the long hallway that led to her bedroom. Gracie crouched down in a dark shadow created by the turn of the stairs. "I need to tell you something else about Dad. I _know_ you know what he.. I mean when I… get into trouble.. what he does… even if-"

"Bas!" Gracie heard her mother's angry hiss. "Not this stupid bloody story of yours again! Now get back to your sister and let me get out of here – Nelson is waiting to drive me to the airport…-"

Sebastian's voice got louder. "No! That's not what I – I _know_ you don't give a shit about me either way but I'm not talking about me! It's Gracie! He's started saying- "

Gracie peered around the top of the stairs in time to see her mother slap Bassy's face, hard. The little girl flinched at the sound but something made her stay put. Her mother's voice rose above her brother's – not quite a shriek but with the potential to turn into one. "Shut your fucking mouth! You are a _filthy little liar!_ Just like your tramp of a mother was. Colin keeps telling me not to believe your outrageous lies…"

Bassy stepped back from her, his hand to his face. "Oh come on, _mom_! You _know_ goddamn everything! Or nearly everything…"

(Heavy steps came hurriedly from behind Gracie and she turned to swiftly scuttle down the stairs….)

"What I _know_ is that he would never lay a hand on Grace! And- Ah! Thank god – Nelson!" Amy greeted the uniformed man with obvious relief. "I _am_ ready – just being held up by this piece of trash – lying again… now saying awful things about Colin threatening Grace for goodness' sake!"

Nelson, ever true to his highly-paid role as one of Colin's right-hand men, grabbed Sebastian harshly by the shoulder, with a polite nod to the mistress of the house, and unceremoniously dragged him away. As he manhandled the boy down the stairs he muttered in his ear - "…then it is _your job_ , you little shit, to make sure he never makes good on those threats, isn't it? Just _do what he asks,_ when he asks – that's all they want from you, _boy_. And life can carry on happily for your little sister, and the rest of us..."

Unbeknownst to the other, Sebastian and Gracie both took a minute to compose themselves before Sebastian re-entered the living room. He was kicking himself for being so stupid as to think for a second his step-mother would take notice of a word he said – why would she start now? His genuine worry for Gracie had driven him to try again, but he had no doubt only made things worse. If Amy didn't go ratting to his father, no doubt fucking Nelson would…. Although… Even though neither gave a flying fuck about him, nor were they _complete_ sadists, he mused. They didn't like the disruption and bad atmosphere caused when Colin came after Sebastian…. He _might_ be ok…

"Why was Mommy screaming at you?" Gracie cuddled up to him on the couch. "I saw her – she slapped you again. Why are she and Daddy always mad at you?"

Sebastian took a breath that was only slightly shaky and rested his cheek on her soft curly head. "Oh… because I'm secretly a metahuman… They're both crazy jealous of my powers… "

Gracie giggled and snuggled tighter into her brother. She knew that sharing her sad thoughts with him would only make him sad again. But she raised her little face and kissed him on the cheek where Mommy had hit him. "You know how Mommy's always asking you to look after me?" she whispered. "Well, just so you know Bassy, I'm gonna look after you, too."


	5. Chapter 5

THE FOLLOWING FRIDAY

Santana, appalling classroom attitude notwithstanding, was surprisingly intellectually able, and therefore, unsurprisingly, shared very few classes with her best girl. She was looking forward to catching up with Britt at the end of the day but, uncharacteristically, her girlfriend was missing from cheerleading practice. She finally tracked Brittany down in her favourite place after glee club, McKinley's run down, but cavernous, dance studio. As was often the case, she was there with Mike, her regular dance partner. His girlfriend Tina was normally lurking in the corner playing on her phone (it was not that Tina totally didn't _trust_ Mike, it was just that... well... it was _Brittany_...) while the two dancers rehearsed - but today she occupied front and centre in the middle of the dance floor, and was screaming at Santana's beloved.

"Stop being so unbelievably selfish! Mike CANNOT dance with you like this - he'll do even more damage. And he's the one hoping for a _real_ dance career - he does NOT need to risk everything dancing in some sleazy club just so that _you_ can get a regular gig there!"

The boy under discussion had taken Tina's usual spot in the corner, perched with a somewhat sheepish expression on his face and nursing what appeared to be a painful ankle. Santana spared him only a brief glance before launching herself into the catfight. "Zip it right now, Goth Girl!" she screamed into Tina's face. "I don't know what the fuck is going on here but nobody speaks to my girl like that - you got me? Lima Heights got nothing on what imma do to your ass if you don't back the hell off!"

Tina took a step back but appeared unintimidated. "Well why don't you explain to your _idiot_ girlfriend here that the _insane_ routine that these two have choreographed is not _safe_ for someone to do who has just _sprained their fucking ankle_!"

Santana had put her arms around a trembling and tear-stained Brittany. " _Hey Boy, Hey Girl_ ", huh baby? Your piece for _The Fridge_?"

" _One_ of them!" sobbed Brittany. "I can't do it without him! It's not _"Hey Girl, Hey same Girl again"_! And we've worked so ha-ha- _hard_!" The gig is in less than two weeks now... ...I-"

"-Mike is not even going to be able to put _weight_ on his ankle in that time you _moron_!" hissed Tina.

That was enough for Santana. The Latina jabbed her fingers sharply into Tina's chest. "Fuck off out of here before I fucking kill you, you insecure, jealous little bitch. If your _boyfriend_ had any weight to speak of to _put_ on his fucking ankle I might be worried but he's so fucking scrawny I doubt it'd make any fucking difference."

Tina opened her mouth to respond. Santana put her hand up in the Asian girl's face and then grabbed her shoulder. "No! Not another fucking word comes out of your lips, bitch! You have said more than enough. Now fuck off out of here _right now_ before I _actually_ start hurting you." She glanced over her shoulder at Mike while pushing Tina towards the door. "I'll return your little boyfriend _when_ I've finished with him."

Tina's righteous indignation was not enough to withstand _La Lopez_ in a full Lima Heights rage and she retreated (tactically) before it, managing a quick "Don't be long, babe!" in Mike's general direction before Santana slammed the door in her face.

" _Right_ ," spat Santana, stalking towards a now somewhat nervous-looking Mike. "So a little pain in your stupid ankle has somehow managed to make whatever pathetic little balls you possesed drop off at the same time, huh, _Asian B_? Where do you get off just sitting on your tiny little ass and letting Goth Girl speak to my girl like that?"

"It's not his fault, Tana." A still tear-stained Brittany had joined them and Mike put an apologetic hand on her shoulder. "He wanted to try and do it - he knows he's my _Hey Boy_..." Her shoulders began to shake again

"Come on, baby girl." Santana sighed and put her arm around the taller girl. She wasn't ready to let Mike off the hook just yet. "You still should have stuck up for her. That bitch's got your balls in a vice."

Mike scraped a hand across his face. "I'm sorry." He looked up at Brittany. "I'm sorry, Britt. I've no excuse except this stupid ankle has got me down. There's our Fridge thing, and I've got other dance stuff I'm working towards... and a dumb _football_ injury leaves me like this... I mean... she _is_ right... Tina, I mean. I'm so sorry guys but I can't.. I really can't dance on it at all."

Santana's adrenaline dissipated abruptly and she sighed. "Shit, guys. Two fucking weeks to go! All that work... The things I've had to do to get Peeping Perv to get those fake ID's for everyone - they've all bought tickets... I mean... could you get another guy? Is there someone else who..?"

"There are no boys here good enough for me," announced Brittany, firmly.

Mike groaned in agreement. "You have _seen_ at least some of this routine, right? Totally to blow my own trumpet but unless she can persuade Mr Schue...?"

"... to go cage dancing at _The Fridge_..." finished Santana. "Although. He would probably totally get off on that - I mean - if he wasn't a teacher who was gonna get fired.."

"Fievel could maybe." said Brittany suddenly.

"Fievel?" Mike was confused.

" _Seriously_?" Santana gaped at the taller girl. "She means the Meerkat." she explained to Mike, who, having been kept in the loop regarding _Slushiegate_ by an eager Tina, gaped in turn. "What, that evil, entitled little fucker? Like he'd ever do anything for anyone else, and that's assuming he can dance in the first place, cos' I've not seen any evidence-"

Santana sighed again. "Come on Britt - I think the panic is getting to you - you've gotta admit he 's right - that is one crazy idea, even for you, sweetie."

Brittany shrugged, rubbed the last of her tears away and stuck her chin out. "Hey, don't worry Tana. I'll do a different routine on my own. You can still help with the choreography, right Mike?"

"Britt - you need _two_ different routines, remember? And the time we have left... You're only gonna have time to learn something a lot more basic, I think. I can help you - sure - but I've got other stuff I have to do this week - I mean - we were only due to have, like, four more practices..."

Santana could see how strong Brittany was trying to be at that moment, and her heart went out to her. The dancer's eyes shone with unshed tears and she managed a shaky smile at her (former) partner. "You know that me dancing is like you in AP History, right, Mike? _No one_ can learn new moves faster than I can! Come on - just help me get this thing started and I'll be ok on my own."

Now it was Santana's voice that shook as she managed a "You got this girl!" to her girlfriend and rolled her eyes at Mike. "I guess I'll leave you guys to it. Shall I tell your stalker you're gonna be held up for a little longer?" she asked sweetly. "It'd be no trouble - really."

Mike pulled a face. But he owed at least this much to Brittany, although he hoped she had an inkling of how they were going to pull something together in time, because he certainly didn't. He grinned reluctantly at Santana. "Don't take too much pleasure in it. Be nice. You know she was only looking out for me - she just goes a little over the top sometimes is all."

And Santana found herself being surprisingly pleasant to Tina, going so far as to buy her a coffee by way of an apology. But mainly because her mind was very much on her brave, beautiful girlfriend and how the hell she was somehow going to produce a solo dance worthy of the _Fridge_ in one week.

On Skype that night Brittany had tried to assure her of the great progress that she and Mike had managed to make on her new solo choreography, but dissembling was not in her nature. "It's not gonna be as good - just not as special. Mike and I had that thing down so tight - I know it looked incredible..." She had smiled and shrugged and and Santana assuring her that she was going to knock it out of the park. After as sexy a goodnight as they could manage via Skype (which, in fact, Puck would have paid good money to see), Santana was not yet ready for sleep. Britts would be just fine, of course she would - and to be honest, Brittany on her own was still more impressive than any number of other dancers - but still...

She glared ferociously at her phone - scrolling along the contacts. Gotta be worth a punt, right?


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn't until early Sunday evening that Santana found herself drumming her elegantly manicured (but lethal, naturally) fingernails on a table in The Lima Bean, battling her mounting irritation at being kept waiting - one of her least favourite things. Sebastian had been reluctant to meet here - still apparently worried about running into any McKinleys, leading to Santana scoffing at his lack of _cojones_ and assuring him that her very own pet barista would be reserving them the most private and discreet of booths the Lima could offer. She was therefore considerably less than impressed when some scruffy, gangly youth threw himself into the seat opposite her, dropping a shabby hold-all onto the floor by his feet. A cowlick of thick dark hair hung into his eyes, ripped jeans half hung off his skinny frame and a too-big hoody obscured the rest of him.

"Beat it, brat," snapped Santana. "I'm waiting for a grown-up." She didn't have time for this. Long, slender fingers pushed the dark hair back from the boy's face and he smirked at her. "Sorry to disappoint, _Mizz Snix_. Just me today."

"Well, well," murmured Santana. "What's the opposite of 'scrubs up well', I wonder?"

Still trying to smooth his hair back from his face, Sebastian shrugged. "Not really feeling the Dalton look right now, Satan," he apologised.

"No shit, Meerkat. More like some sort of stoner skater boy."

She wondered if his reddened eyes were due to his drug of choice and decided they definitely were when he sighed, and briefly rested head on his folded arms. "Tired." he murmured by way of explanation, then looked up and gave her his best eyebrow raise. "You, on the other hand, are looking as hot as ever." He paused, as something occurred to him. "I can actually skateboard too, you know. Happy to give you lessons and share my dope with you any time."

"You are the least _gay_ gay person I've ever met."

"And you would know, Sha-queer-a." Sebastian was back to his defensive, sarcastic default.

"Here." Santana nodded at the table as her captive barista set a cup in front of Sebastian. " _Café Crème_. Just as good as if it came from gay Paree, so Ronaldo's promised me. Now just add the magic juice from the little hip flask of yours, take a chill pill and listen up for a second."

She was brought up short by the sweetest smile. THIS must be his 'proper' smile... He actually looked a little flustered, and ran his hand through his hair again. "Thank you so much!" he beamed at her. "I haven't had one of these in sooo long... How did you even know...? And.." ... from somewhere within his hoody he produced his hip-flask with a flourish. "This is what I add to it... Fucking nectar from the gods... you gotta try some, Satan!"

She took a sip, not taking her eyes off him. "Whoo... that's... you'd better not be driving from here, Fievel! Better not have any more of that on an empty stomach.."

"Not driving," said Sebastian airily and took a long swig. He closed his eyes in bliss. "Aaaah..."

"Some alone time with that?" She raised an eyebrow at him but he just smiled artlessly back.

"I'm not gonna call you Satan any more," he announced. "You still ok with Sha-queer-a?"

She shook her head and smiled back, as artless as he. "Seb- _astard?_ "

They stared at each other for a moment. Then he ducked his head. "Thank you, Santana," he murmured, then raised... almost hopeful eyes to her again.

She bought him food... or rather he jumped up, in an agony of self-recrimination when she suggested some, and insisted on paying. They had croissants, to keep up the French theme, and as she recounted Brittany's dancing dilemma she unobtrusively fed him most of her share; he seemed hungry...

"...So... is what she says true? Are you this crazy good dancer? Because she's totally faking being ok with doing this on her own..."

Sebastian's response was disappointing. And somewhat awkward. Disappointingly awkward. He ran his hand through his too-long hair, messing it up completely. "Fuck, Santana, no! I mean.. I've never taken lessons or training or anything... I guess I kind of find it easier than the rest of the Warblers and I've ended up doing a bit of our choreography and helping the guys who completely move like elephants but that's as far as it goes... She is waaay out of my league!"

Santana eyed him critically. "Are you sure you're not just saying that because..."

"What?"

She nodded her head cryptically at his arms.

"What?"

"I saw your wrist. When you were inhaling those croissants. What kind of trouble are you in, skater boi?" Not losing eye contact, she leaned forward and pushed back a baggy sleeve. His wrist was encircled by black and blue bruising. "Those are finger marks, Fievel. Who the hell has been fucking with you this time?"

Sebastian's entire demeanour changed in an instant . He jerked away from her and sat back in his seat, arms wrapped protectively around himself, wrists well-covered. The shutters had come down - his green eyes glared coldly at her. "Fuck, Satan," he snarled. "I thought you of all people would know it can get a little rough with the trade down at Scandals. I mean, I'm betting you just love a bit of _powerplay_ with sweet little Alice in Wonderland.."

His head jerked back from the force of Santana's stinging slap. She was on her feet and in his face. "Why did I even fucking bother! God, they're all right about you - you're just a worthless, slutty, evil, little piece of trash. Just forget it, _Sebastard_ \- forget you even know me. And don't even think about Britt - I don't want her contaminated by your polluted little brain. I'm gonna try so hard to forget I was fucking stupid enough to even dream that an over-privileged, selfish little piece of shit like you would ever do _anything_ in a million years for anyone apart from your pathetic, fucked-up little self. Fuck off back to Dalton, rich boy - I'm not wasting another second of my life on you!" She shoved him, so hard he fell off his chair onto the floor. And she was gone.

Sebastian pulled himself slowly back onto his chair. Fucked up again. Because what... because she took a bit of interest? Showed some concern? Some fucking decency? She was... she was something else - her and Brittany. _You are such a fucking shit. So angry all the fucking time - so fucking, fucking angry._ He let his sleeves fall back and stared at his wrists. And then his brain whited out and he put his face down onto his folded arms and he may have cried.

 _It had been another weekend at home - whether he liked it or not._

 _Gracie was in his room, bugging him while he got changed. She whined. "Why do you get to go to Daddy's business dinners? I never get to."_

 _Sebastian had stopped - had hunkered down to her level. "Jesus, Gracie. Don't ever wish that. I'm being so serious here, OK Pipsqueak? If he ever, ever, asks you - or says you gotta go or anything, you get hold of me right. Amy- I mean - Mom's got you that phone now. And it's got my number in it. And if that doesn't work you phone Trent, he's on there too - promise me - PROMISE me!"_

 _"Geez - ok Bassy - I promise, ok?" She poked him. "Why do you have to wear your school uniform though?"_

 _Sebastian smoothed down his Dalton blazer and sighed into the mirror. "They like it." he said sadly._

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It was Monday and Brittany was dancing, on her own, watching herself in the mirror, as she worked on her new routine to a different song - it had to be a different song. Muscles aching, she was lost in the music. She slowed down. An uncertain shadow hovered by the door. "Fievel! How come you're here? 'Tana said you were bad after all.. and that we couldn't hang out any more... that you wouldn't want to anyway... I think you really upset her."

Sebastian shrugged slowly, rubbing his cheek uneasily. "Hey, Alice."

Brittany frowned at him. "I'm not Alice. Why do you call me that?"

Sebastian hung his (hood-covered) head. "Sorry. You just make me think of Alice in Wonderland. You look like her too, I guess."

Brittany was delighted. "Lord Tubbington is the Cheshire Cat!" Her face fell. "But Tana can't be the Red Queen. I think she's Alice's older sister... And you, you're the White Rabbit of course. Are you late?"

"Nah... you already know who I am. Fievel-mouse, right? Different movie. I... didn't mean to come and I won't hang out any more... I just thought... I'd see if I could help at all... with your dancing? But I don't think I can, cos' you are fuckin' amazing, Alice... "

She caught his hands in hers and pulled him onto the dance floor. "I'm pretty sure you are too, Fievel-mouse."

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